The Replacement War: A Rock Star Rom Com Read online

  But why would he be calling me?

  He laughs again. “Okay, that’s probably true. But I swear, it’s really Ethan.”

  “Sing that song you and your wife wrote when you first got together.”

  He hums a few bars and sings the words, and...yep, that’s definitely Ethan Fuller’s voice.

  “Holy smokes,” I murmur.

  “I like you, Lexi. You’re funny.”

  My cheeks burn at his words. “What can I do for you?” I squeak out, not sure why Ethan Fuller is calling me. Or how. Or which way is up.

  “You ever hear of a little band they call MFB?”

  “My Favorite Band?” I say.

  “I hope not. I hope your favorite band is Vail.”

  I laugh. “It’s totally Vail. But to answer your question, yes, of course I’ve heard of them.”

  “They’re looking for a new bass player and I know you’re with Electric Red Summer, but I tossed your name in the ring. Any chance you’d like to come out to LA to audition?”

  “You...you...you tossed my name in the ring? But how? Why? What?”

  He laughs again. “Oh, man, this is going to be fun. I got word of your band a year or so ago and love your talent, Lexi. Your voice is one of a kind, and the fact that you’re a chick who plays bass isn’t just unusual, it’s awesome.”

  “Ethan Fuller is a fan of my music?” I ask. “What is this life even?”

  “It’s true. I’m a big fan. I’ve seen what you can do, and I think you’re stuck out there. I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to come along, and it’s here. I don’t see the four of you getting out of Nashville. But you, you’ve got the voice, you’ve got the talent, and even if MFB doesn’t choose you, I think I can make things happen for you.”

  My heart explodes and tingles fill the spot where it used to reside.

  Is he serious?

  He can make things happen for me? What does that even mean?

  “When would you need me there?” I ask instead of all those other questions.

  “No later than next Sunday afternoon,” he says, and my heart drops. That’s so soon. Before I can respond, though, he adds, “There’s one other little thing.”

  “One other little thing?” I repeat.

  “The entire audition process will be filmed for Dax Hunter and Mark Ashton’s reality show.”

  “Rock on the Road?” I ask. I’ve never missed an episode. I love every second of the behind the scenes look at creating a record and touring.

  Is he freaking serious that I could appear on the show?

  But he needs me there by Sunday.

  I can’t do Sunday.

  We have gigs lined up for the rest of the month.

  I’d be letting down Danny, Sam, and Andy. They need me. Sam doesn’t have the voice to carry the parts I sing, and we don’t have an extra bassist just lying around. Realistically, I wouldn’t be able to just drop everything and head to Los Angeles for a few months.

  “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?” he challenges.

  “Because I made commitments.”

  “With Electric Red?” he asks. “I’ll get someone to fill in for you.”

  My jaw drops. “You just, what, snap your fingers and someone magically knows my songs and can fill in for me?”

  “Not exactly, but I’ve got a roster of people who’d love the chance.”

  “To what? Play local bars?”

  “Listen, Lex, there’s always someone a few levels below you who would kill to be in your spot.”

  I think about that for a second. A few years ago before we had a regular gig, he’s right. I would’ve done anything to be where I am now. And now that I’m here...well, I want more.

  But nobody around me does, and that lack of ambition tends to rub off.

  We’re fine where we are.

  We’re lucky to have what we have.

  And yet...

  “If you want this shot, just for you, the invitation is extended. I need to go, but text your email address to this number when we disconnect and I’ll have someone from Ashmark send a contract for you to look over.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me, Ethan, but—”

  He cuts me off. “You’re welcome. I really hope you’ll think of your personal goals when it comes to music. Trust me, I get it if you want to stick with your band. But if you want to soar outside of Nashville, give this proposal some real thought. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He ends the call, and I stare off into space for a minute.

  And then, because you don’t ignore something like this, I text Ethan my email address.

  I draw in a breath.

  I close my eyes.

  Just like my mom and I used to do when I was a kid, I cross my middle finger over my forefinger on both hands, hold my crossed fingers over my eyes, bring my thumbs in front of my lips together, and kiss them as I make a wish that I’ll make the right decision.

  CHAPTER 5: GAGE

  It’s an hour before practice is set to start, and I’ve never actually done a video call before, but my phone is telling me I have one incoming.

  Maybe that makes me sound ancient even though I’m only twenty-seven, but I’ve never had a need to do one. My life is here in Vegas. If I need to talk to someone, we talk on the phone or I go to their place or we meet somewhere.

  I thumb at my phone like the tool I am while I try to figure out what the fuck I’m doing, and then I see Adam Wilson’s face fill the screen.

  Holy shit.

  “Hey, Gage,” he says. “Nice to see you.”

  Oh, fuck. It’s true.

  It’s really Adam Wilson, lead guitarist of MFB and one of my fucking idols even though we’re the same age.

  And he can see me?

  Right.

  This is a video call.

  “Hey,” I mutter, trying to play it cool when I’m suddenly nervous as fuck. That guy was telling the truth. MFB really wants me to audition for their open spot. How the hell did this happen? “Same to you.”

  “Trevor said you sounded like you didn’t really believe him, so I thought a video call was in order. My wife and I took a quick weekend in Vegas about a month ago and we saw Sin City Crue. You were incredible, man.”

  “Oh, thanks.” More muttering. This guy is going to think I’m a fucking idiot if I don’t pull it together.

  “At the time I didn’t know we’d need a replacement on bass, but now we do. We’d love to meet you and see what you can do.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Okay?” he repeats, and I realize I have yet to string together a complete sentence during this conversation.

  I draw in a deep breath and try not to stare at myself, but I’m up in the corner of my screen and my hair needs a good washing. Actually, as I look at this Adam guy, I think if I want to fit into MFB, my hair might need a cut, too. These guys are mostly fairly clean cut. They’re more than a few steps above being stars of a cover band playing eighties hair metal, and my long locks and tattoos will make me stick out like a sore thumb. At least I can do something about the hair.

  “Yeah, man. I appreciate the offer and your call today. It’s just a little surreal to hear that someone from one of the biggest bands in the world is interested in hearing me play.” I shake my head a little as I try to reconcile what I just said in my head.

  He laughs. “Well, we’re interested. Sign the contract and get your ass to Los Angeles.”

  I grin and nod, and I feel a little more like myself with his ribbing. “Consider it done.”

  I read through the contract for the hundredth time, and it seems like a bunch of standard legal jargon. I’m not supposed to talk to anybody about what I’m doing, and it gives me specific language I’m allowed to use when telling my band why I’m leaving.

  I don’t really know whether I’m signing my life away or not, but it sort of feels like it.

  I sign it anyway, because even if I am signing my life away, I’m
trading up. Way up. Even if I’m not chosen as the bassist, I’ll still be on a television show that allows me to showcase my talents. I’ll still be on MFB’s and Ashmark’s radar.

  And that’s just an opportunity I can’t pass up.

  I send the signed contract off to Ashmark before I lose my nerve, and then I make a call to Paul, the head of entertainment at the hotel where Sin City Crue plays. I explain to him that I’ll be gone for at least the next month to give myself a little bumper time but that this could be indefinite.

  And then I head to Ray’s house for practice.

  I don’t bring my bass guitar.

  I show up last—late because of my call with Adam, which isn’t like me.

  “Finally,” Mikey says, and I shoot him a glare. I don’t even know why we practice anymore. We can play these songs in our sleep. Maybe because we all love making music.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I say. “I, uh, have some news.”

  Ray raises a brow. “What is it? You knock up your roommate?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I’d knock her up real nice,” Mikey jeers.

  “You guys are idiots,” I say, and then I turn to Mikey. “She wouldn’t give you the time of day anyway.”

  “So what’s the news?” Ray asks.

  “I was invited to participate in a reality show, and I’m heading to Los Angeles to take part. This will take anywhere from a week to a month, and there are pretty big opportunities if I win.”

  Mikey, Ray, and Vince all glance at one another.

  “I may not be back,” I finish.

  “A reality show?” Vince asks, his voice all skepticism.

  “Contractually, that’s all I’m allowed to say. But this is the kind of thing I just can’t pass up.”

  “When do you leave?” Ray asks, and I appreciate his immediate understanding. He’s the kind of guy who will go right to solutions rather than complain about the problem. We’re a lot alike that way.

  “I’m leaving Thursday. I already talked to Paul, and he’s getting in touch with the back-ups to see who can fill in while I’m gone.” Which will hopefully be forever.

  “This Thursday?” Mikey whines. Unlike Ray, he prefers to wallow for a bit before turning the corner toward understanding. “But, dude, you’re the best at bass. We need you.”

  I promised myself I wouldn’t feel guilty for taking this opportunity, but a little guilt stabs at me anyway. Even though we don’t take much too seriously, these guys are my friends, and we’ve been playing together for the last four years. We worked hard for two of them to find our niche and work our way up in the Vegas circuit, and working hard like that with a group of people has a way of bonding you to them.

  But I’m not so bonded that I’m willing to give up this chance.

  “You’ve always wanted more than what a cover band could offer,” Ray says. “So, as the Crue would say, ‘Without You’ we’ll be okay. Find yourself some ‘Girls, Girls, Girls,’ and win whatever the prize is. For us, it’s ‘On with the Show.’”

  “‘Knock em Dead, Kid,’” Vince adds.

  “Yeah. Don’t go shouting at the devil or anything,” Mikey says, trying his best in his big, dumb oaf way to throw a Crue song title at me.

  I laugh. “Thank you for understanding that I need to do this.” I hug each of the guys, and a strange sense of emotion washes over me.

  I hadn’t realized how hard this would actually be.

  But as I walk out the front door for maybe the last time ever, I know big things await me.

  And I can’t wait to get to them.

  CHAPTER 6: LEXI

  I draw in a deep breath, hold it for a beat, and exhale. I do it one more time.

  Then I knock on his door, forcing my hands to my sides even though my instinct is to wring them together.

  This guy has been my best friend for years. And now I’m standing on his doorstep, ready to change the direction of everything we’ve known for years and leave the band in one fell swoop all because of one phone call.

  And I can’t even tell him where I’m really going.

  Except I trust him with my life, so I might tell him a little more than the contract said I could say.

  As soon as the door swings open, I’m greeted with a wide smile that fades quickly when Danny takes in the expression on my face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  “Can we talk?”

  His brows furrow and he nods before opening the door wider to let me in.

  We sit in his living room, him on the couch and me in the chair next to him so I can look at him while I talk.

  Except I have no idea where to start or what to say. “I, uh...”

  His lips draw into a thin line as his eyes show everything he’s thinking. There’s fear there. He’s scared. He draws in a breath. “What is it, Lex?”

  I study my hands folded in my lap. I clear my throat. “I was invited to Los Angeles to compete in a reality show. It centers around music, and it’s a great opportunity for me.”

  His brows furrow. “You were invited? By who?”

  “I can’t talk about the terms because I signed an NDA.”

  “You can trust me,” he says.

  I nod. “I know. Ethan Fuller called me.”

  “Ethan Fuller?” he practically yells. “Vail’s drummer?”

  I nod, and I can’t help the smile that perks my lips and the little pink dots that grace my cheeks.

  “Holy Toledo,” he murmurs, and I smile a little wistfully at his catchphrase.

  He’s what I know. Electric Red Summer is what I know.

  And I’m leaving it all for the unknown. I impulsively signed on the dotted line without talking this over or thinking it through...not my typical method of decision making, but it was Ethan Fuller on the other line. There really wasn’t a choice to be made.

  “So you’ll go on the show and then come back to us, yes?” he asks, a little pleading in his tone.

  I lift both shoulders and go with honesty. “I don’t really know. If I win the competition, I may have to move to Los Angeles.” And, as I think back to Ethan’s words that he could make things happen for me either way, I may have to move to LA even if I don’t win.

  “What’s the prize?” he asks.

  “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  His face falls and he heaves out a breath. “But what about the band?”

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you first. Ethan said he knows some people...” I trail off. When did I start referring to Ethan Fuller like he’s my old pal?

  This still doesn’t feel real.

  “And we’re just supposed to let a stranger in?” he asks.

  “I guess. Look, Danny. You know I’ve always wanted more than where Andy and Sam are willing to go with ERS.” I leave his name off even though he’s just as settled as the other two. “And this is my chance to hit something big. I don’t want to leave you guys, but I have to do this. For me. If I don’t, if I stay here and play the circuit we’ve played for years now, then I’ll always wonder what I might’ve missed out on.”

  “But I love you,” he says.

  I grab his hand and grip it in mine. “I know. I love you, too.”

  When I look up at him, I immediately know what he’s about to say as he shakes his head.

  “No,” he says. “I am in love with you.”

  I’ve known that, too. For some time now, actually. He’s tried to tell me more than just the other night, and every time, I’ve been able to hold him off by pressing the fact that he’s my best friend and I don’t want that to change.

  Every time except this one.

  It’s his last-ditch effort to get me to stay. I love him as a friend, but he isn’t what I want. A successful career in music? That’s what I want.

  And success to me is bigger than what ERS has to offer me. It’s bigger than what Nashville has to offer me.

  It may be more on par with what someone like Ethan Fuller can offer me.


  “Thank you for telling me that,” I say, squeezing his hand again. “You’re so important to me, and your support would mean everything.”

  Sadness contorts his features as he realizes that his efforts were in vain. I hate doing this to him, hate how my chest aches and my eyes sting with unshed tears and my head throbs with uncertainty.

  “I just...I need to take this chance. I need to see where it goes. But no matter what happens, you are my best friend. That won’t change.”

  “When we wrote ‘Falling,’ that was about you.”

  A tear tips over my lid. “I know,” I say quietly.

  He twists his lips. “Even though I love watching your cute little butt walk away, I can’t just stand by and watch you go.”

  I force a smile, not used to his open flirting. “I’m sorry.”

  He heaves out a breath. “So how much time do we have left with you?”

  “I booked a plane ticket to LA this Thursday,” I blurt.

  “Thursday?” he repeats. He counts off the days on his fingers. “As in five days?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “But what about Whistleby’s this weekend?” he asks, naming the vineyard we’re scheduled to play both Friday and Saturday for different events.

  I press my lips together. “Ethan said he can get someone out here before then. Y’all can play covers until whoever she is learns our words. Or maybe there’s someone local who already knows them.”

  “Lexi, Lexi, Lexi.” He shakes his head. “You can’t do this to us.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, guilt pressing heavily on my shoulders. I meet his gaze. “But I already have.”

  CHAPTER 7: GAGE

  “So what are we doing with you today?” Auntie Jean, or AJ as I call her, asks.

  I stare straight ahead at myself. A black cape adorns my shoulders as I sit in the lowest setting of the chair so she can reach the top of my head. I’m tall at six feet four inches, and she stands at a mere five foot three...but height has no bearing on her ability to level me with one gaze.

  I flick my eyes to the woman who more or less raised me when my mother passed. I was only four, and the only thing I remember about my mother is that she would sing me the same lullaby every night. Her voice was angelic, and I think she’s where I got my love for music.